Something More
by pixie4eva
Summary: 2x06 AU. Felicity Smoak: "I wouldn't mind a drink." She didn't know Oliver had heard her, and she certainly didn't know one trip would change everything. One-shot


**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

_Felicity Smoak: "I wouldn't mind a drink." 2x06_

Felicity wasn't kidding when she said that for two reasons—one, she wasn't a fan of flying, and two, spending hours in an enclosed space with Isabel Rochev made her "about to hack" face appear. As if things weren't bad enough, she had to share a cab with the woman, who possessed a glare that made the blonde wonder if she was a descendant from Medusa. The situation worsened when Isabel gave the poor cab driver instructions in Russian in how to handle baggage properly, if the hand gestures were anything to go by. Felicity took a deep breath as she hoped for a miracle that the ride to the hotel would not take long, despite having heard about Moscow's traffic.

At that moment, two young children ran toward them and she only had a moment to react. Before one of them could run into her, Felicity turned and raised her handbag high in the air. The two children just kept running past them, but she was more focused on the feeling that she had hit something. Turning to her right, Felicity's mouth dropped open when she realized she had knocked Ms. Rochev's fur hat forward and over her eyes. The first image that popped into the blonde's mind was that of a toy monkey banging cymbals together, except this one looked like Isabel Rochev. She probably would've laughed if the woman's glare wasn't lethal as she pushed the hat back into place.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Rochev. It wasn't intentional," she said as calmly as possible.

Sarcasm dripped off Isabel's every word. "Sure it wasn't."

Felicity's eyes widened as she quickly tried to explain. "No, really! It wasn't on purpose. There was running involved. From someone else obviously, since I was standing right here. But then I had to turn, and the kid was about to run into my bag.… And you don't care about that, do you?"

Isabel looked like she smelled something rotten as her gaze traveled over the blonde from head to toe. "I really don't see the appeal."

Felicity frowned, feeling more than a little confused. "What do you mean?"

The surly woman rolled her eyes. "Are both you and Oliver really going to pretend that there's nothing going on?" She didn't wait for a response, climbing into the cab instead.

The IT genius felt even more confused, and she wondered what exactly Isabel thought she had figured out. She needed to talk to Oliver urgently, because it couldn't be the idea she had just had. No way. First, though, she had to get in the car before Isabel told the driver that she would catch her own cab. She wouldn't put it past the woman to leave her outside the airport in a foreign country.

~A~

John Diggle had been captured. Everything was going according to the dangerous plan, and Felicity was sure she would be prematurely grey because of it. Thank goodness she dyed her hair.

She was sitting at the bar, considering at least trying the vodka, since she doubted she would get to visit any tourist destinations. If nothing went wrong, it wouldn't be a long trip and she wanted to leave knowing she did something in Russia that felt normal. It didn't hurt that it would help pass the thirty-six hours John had asked for. After all, they were there to rescue Lyla, and he needed enough time to find her. Just as she raised her hand to finally order the drink, a man stopped next to her with a big smile.

"Allow me," he said with an accent before raising his hand. "I'm Yuri. And you are?"

Felicity's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "How did you know I don't speak Russian?"

Yuri laughed jovially as he took the seat next to her. "I was standing nearby when you declined the other gentleman's offer for a drink. I heard your accent. American, yes?"

It was a bad idea to sit at the bar alone. Yuri was the second man who tried to pick her up, and Felicity really hoped her outfit didn't translate into "on the clock" for one of the oldest professions. She was wearing contacts with her hair down, a long sleeve mini dress and ankle boots. "Maybe it's the bright pink lipstick."

"What did you say?" Yuri asked as he turned from the bartender to her.

She did _not _mean to say that out loud. "Nothing, don't worry about it."

She thought about smiling, but she didn't want to encourage him. Fortunately, she was saved when she heard a sound coming from her phone in her clutch. It was a message from Oliver.

_Distract Isabel._

_What? _She looked around and was about to also type that one word when she spotted them. Isabel looked like a predator stalking her prey. And when she got up to walk closer to Oliver, she resembled a snake—graceful, but lethal. _Oh, and definitely fast. That woman doesn't waste time!_

The message tone came from her phone again: _Please._

Felicity quickly excused herself and walked closer to them, continuously typing on her phone. She did a small fist pump—quickly disguised as brushing her hair behind her ear—when she was successful. Ms. Rochev would soon be informed that her milk bath was ready, and her denying the request for one would be the distraction Oliver needed. _Now to delay her while the plan is put into motion._

"Mr. Queen, here you are. I just wanted to remind you that you said we still have business to take care of tonight."

Isabel appeared exasperated as she turned to her, putting on a smile that looked more like grimace. "He won't need _you _tonight, Ms. Smoak."

Felicity blushed. Not missing the innuendo, though she still felt like a puzzle piece eluded her. She really needed to talk to Oliver.

"Actually, this can't wait," he said, standing up and buttoning his jacket. "You'll have to excuse me."

Oliver placed his hand on her back and guided her toward the elevators, leaving behind a stunned Isabel, who was clearly not used to being shot down. Something about her made Felicity think of a deflated balloon.

_A sour-looking balloon. Sheesh, maybe a relaxing bath will do her some good. _Then, when she spotted Yuri out of the corner of her eye, it reminded her of something.

"You're presumptuous," Felicity commented, allowing Oliver to steer her away from the bar.

He frowned in confusion. "Why?"

"Well, I was talking to a guy back there. Who said I didn't want to go back to him?"

Increasing his pace, Oliver pressed his hand more firmly against her back. "Trust me, he was trouble."

She raised an eyebrow as she looked up at him. "First of all, you can't know that for sure, even though I was a little uncomfortable around him. What if he's a nice guy underneath the creepy vibe? Wait, ignore that last part. My point is, I might've wanted to go back to the bar, and you assumed I'd leave with you." Her hands began moving animatedly. "Obviously, I don't mean _with_ you— like 'heading back to your room for the premium package experience' _with _you." Her eyes widened. "I did _not _mean it the way that came out. I was referring to getting a great deal when you go on a cruise or something. But in this case, instead of getting three meals a day, it would be you pulling out all the stops."

Closing her eyes tightly, Felicity turned her back to him and searched blindly for the elevator button. She realized too late that she had pressed the "down" button, and she avoided looking at him when she walked to another elevator. Even when he moved and stopped next to her, Felicity couldn't find it in herself to look at him. Some psychiatrist or hypnotist really had to look into the "lack of brain to mouth filter" disease.

Her fingers twitched with the need to press the "up" button again, but the rational side of her brain knew that wouldn't make the elevator arrive any faster. The doors finally opened, and she was slightly startled when he placed his hand on her back again, guiding her inside the empty enclosure.

"Thank you for your help," Oliver said, not looking at her.

Felicity thought she replied something like "you're welcome," but she couldn't be sure; even _her _mind needed a moment to process. Oliver's jaw was clenched tightly, his thumb was on her skin due to her dress' low back, and her mind was fighting images created by an unintended innuendo. It didn't help that Isabel had implied something twice.

"And thank you for coming with me. I did notice that there were a few men competing for your attention tonight," he said with a clipped tone.

_Huh? _Her brow furrowed. _A few? He almost sounds._…_ No, it couldn't be. _"Noticed, huh?"

"I'm always aware of my environment, Felicity."

"You need to know exit routes, sure. But—"

"I care about your safety!" he interrupted her. He seemed to be battling with an internal struggle before he turned to her, placing his hands on her upper arms. "So yes, I kept an eye on you from the moment you walked through the door."

Neither said a word then as they stared at each other. It was one of those moments again—chemistry sizzled, sparks flew, and the possibility of them being more than friends was almost within reach. Her heart raced as she hoped that maybe this was it; perhaps he would finally admit that there was _something _between them.

"I've probably just made everything worse," he said, taking a step back and turning to face the doors.

Doing her best to hide the disappointed that left a small tear on her heart, Felicity tried and failed to catch up as the atmosphere abruptly shifted. "What are you talking about?"

"What floor are you on?"

She ignored his question. "Oliver, _what _are you talking about? Seriously, Isabel dropped hints twice today. And she's not very forthcoming, considering she thinks I already know. I mean, at first, I did wonder if she thinks we have some kind of office romance going on, but that is ridiculous."

It took all she had to pretend that those words didn't affect her. She even smiled, hoping that it would seem real.

He didn't say a word.

Slowly, the smile was replaced with a look of uncertainty. "That… that is ridiculous, right? Right?!" Nearly freaking out in an elevator in Russia—check. "How would that even work? Your office walls are made of glass, and I don't even have a door. I mean, I can be adventurous, but I'm not an exhibitionist."

For a moment, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. _I'm going to pretend I didn't say that, and I'm _not _going to blush. Denial is an excellent option right now._

"Felicity," he sighed and dragged his fingers through his hair. "It's not just her."

"Wait, _what_?" She stared at him, mouth agape. "Who else thinks we're burning the midnight oil for unrelated to work reasons?"

"I'm not sure, but if that's what Isabel thinks, then it's only logical to assume that there's also speculation going around at Queen Consolidated."

Felicity was in a daze after receiving the news, and she didn't even realize that she followed him to his door until he asked if she wanted to go inside. "Um, sure. We should probably go over the plans for tomorrow again."

_Good excuse._ She mentally gave herself a pat on the back; that was a valid reason for following him instead of embarrassing herself.

Oliver's room was much nicer than hers, and she spun around slowly to take it all in while he walked over to the bar. "Would you like something to drink? You did mention you wanted one at the airport this morning."

"Sure, that would be nice," she replied, smiling. Then she placed her small clutch on the table behind the couch and turned back to look at him. "So you heard that, yet you still left me with her?"

A glimpse of a smile briefly appeared on Oliver's face. "It was better for you to skip the meeting."

Walking over to the window to admire the view, Felicity nervously fidgeted with her hands. "_Right_, the meeting with your _connections_. You don't have to tell me, but I can't help but wonder how you have ties to them." She quickly changed the subject when a guarded look appeared on his face. "This is actually my first time out of the country. That is, if you don't count the trips to Canada to visit my grandmother. And, of course, the time when I jumped out of a plane and landed on a creepy island, where the welcome mat was a landmine."

He walked over to her with a glass in each hand, joining her by the window. They shared a look as he handed her one of the drinks. Even though she didn't know everything that had happened to him, she had seen the scars and she had seen where he had to survive for five years. She knew a lot more about his life than most people did, but she never ran away. She was brave. Even when the world literally shook around her, she didn't abandon him.

"Being here, it's not exactly what you hoped it would be, is it?"

Once again, she had to watch as he pulled back from her, not acknowledging what they both knew—they weren't just friends. There was something else, something _more_.

Taking a tentative sip, Felicity leaned with her back against the large window. "The private plane, one person excluded, was nice." He had to smile at that, and then she continued. "The hotel is also nice. The itinerary.… Not so much."

Oliver stared at her, and she had no idea what a beautiful image she was in that dress against the window. When she caught him, Felicity smiled and bit her lip as she walked past him toward the couch. She could feel his eyes following her, and she might've put a bit more sway in her hips. As she sat down and saw him watching as she crossed her legs, her location truly hit her. She was _in _Oliver Queen's hotel room, he had chosen her over a—she grudgingly admitted—not unattractive woman, and he definitely noticed her.

He looked away and walked to the couch opposite her, and she decided to test her theory. She deliberately uncrossed her legs, only to put her left over her right. He glanced her way without a doubt, though she would've missed it if she hadn't been paying close attention to his reaction. That was certainly empowering. However, she underestimated him; he was on to her little test. Shooting her a warning glance, Oliver draped his jacket over the arm rest and loosed his tie a little. It was impossible not to stare as he rolled up his sleeves to just below his elbows.

_Help me! _She quickly looked away while taking a large mouthful from her glass. She felt the liquid burn down her throat and nearly choked, which would've been really embarrassing. Pulling herself together, Felicity tried to think of something to say. "We should probably start going over the plans for tonight. I meant, tomorrow night! Definitely not _tonight._" She laughed uncomfortably. "What plan could there possibly be for tonight? That is, if you don't count Isabel's little surprise."

Oliver looked at her questioningly, causing her smile to widen. "I didn't think it would be so easy to get you out of there."

"Do I want to know?"

"Nothing dangerous, I promise. She just got dairy surprise."

His brows rose slightly. "Daring?"

"No, _dairy_. You know… _moo_." She shook her head. "And I can't believe I just did that."

A corner of his mouth lifted with amusement and sincerity could be heard in every word he spoke. "Thank you… for everything."

A smile lit up her face. "Always."

He looked down at her empty glass. "Another?"

"Yes, please."

When he returned, he didn't sit on the other couch again. Instead, he took a seat next to her, and she was all too aware of his close proximity. The seriousness of the reason why they were in Russia settled in, and they started going over the plan again. Oliver tried to reassure her when she voiced her fears, but they both knew that there were things that could go wrong. Too many, in fact. As midnight approached, she knew it was time to go, but she didn't want to leave. Her mind was racing with different scenarios, and she didn't want to deal with them alone. Oliver must've known somehow, because he didn't ask if he should walk her back to her room or something alike.

They talked about other topics as well, though neither asked about the other's past. They had always had that unspoken agreement, and this time was no different. She must've fallen asleep, because one moment they were talking about a favorite of hers, _Pride and Prejudice_, and the next she woke up in his arms. She loved the feeling as he carried her, and she wasn't ready to let go when he reached the bed. Opening her eyes, Felicity grabbed his wrist as he pulled the covers over her.

"Stay." Her eyes never left his for a second. "Please stay."

He began pulling back, and she responded by tightening her grip. A part of her mind registered that, if he wanted to, he could easily set himself free. "Felicity.…"

She had always loved the way he said her name. As sleepiness threatened to win, she turned on her side and closed her eyes, absentmindedly moving her thumb back and forth over his skin. "I promise I won't compromise you."

Apparently, her thoughts were still holding on to the classic novel. Then she heard him laugh softly, which made her smile in return.

"It's not you I'm worried about." His words were accompanied by a gentle touch brushing her hair back. Just before she fell asleep again, she felt a shift on the bed and could sense someone next to her. Knowing it was Oliver was a feeling she never wanted to lose.

~A~

Felicity woke up in the middle of the night, feeling more than a little confused at first. Searching her memory, she realized she was still in Oliver's room and that had a similar effect as being hit by a bucket of cold water. Her eyes flew open and she tried to see through the darkness, but the curtains were closed, not letting in even a sliver of light. She rubbed her hand over her face, trying to focus on the situation instead of her eyes not feeling that great; she was still wearing contact lenses. She only realized he was holding her hand when his grip tightened, and she wondered if he was awake. Whispered names and "no" repeated over and over again made her realize he wasn't—he was having a nightmare. Felicity tried to extract her hand to turn on the bedside lamp, but his hand only held on tighter in response. She considered trying to sooth him by moving her thumb in circles. However, that could've startled him and that would've been a bad idea; she was pretty sure he suffered from PTSD.

_Think.… Come on, think!_

Turning on her stomach, Felicity managed to get her arm out from under her and switched on the light. Everything happened quickly after that. Before she could move, he had her flipped on her back and held one of her hands above her head; the other was trapped underneath her.

"Oliver! Oliver, it's me!" She could see a small change in the look in his eyes, though he still seemed on the edge. Wiggling her arm out from under her, Felicity placed her hand on his cheek and gently moved her thumb back and forth. "It's me, it's me," she kept whispering, not even thinking about the fact that he wasn't wearing a shirt.

It hurt to see him like that, knowing that she couldn't undo the damage others had inflected. She had seen the scars, of course, and she had seen where he was for all those years. However, she knew she didn't know the whole story. Honestly, she wasn't sure she would be able to handle it if he described in detail the events behind every scar.

Slowly, he calmed down and released her. When he tried to pull back, she used her hand on his neck to guide his head to lie on her chest. "Please don't," she whispered when he attempted to resist.

He didn't try again after that, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She knew she couldn't protect him from his own memories, but all she wanted to do was to keep them at bay. Eventually, he truly gave in and she felt more of his weight on her—literally and figuratively.

It was a while later when he pushed himself up onto his elbows, though her arms remained around him. "I'm crushing you," he explained when it looked like she was about to protest.

"You're not." They stared at each other, and Felicity slowly moved her hand until it rested over his heart. "You're not," she repeated, both of them knowing she wasn't talking about his weight.

"I'm sorry," he began with anguish in his eyes. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"Stop, you didn't hurt me." She could see he didn't believe her. "Stop it, Oliver! You _didn't _hurt me. There's nothing to forgive, okay?"

He lowered his head as he looked into her eyes. "I'm still sorry."

"You can be so annoyingly stubborn."

He lightly rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. It almost looked like he was savoring the moment. "I know."

She felt his breath against her lips, and her head tilted to bring them closer. Their mouths just began to touch when he pulled back. "I can't," he said, his expression pained.

Piece by piece her heart broke as the rejection ripped through her. "Why not?"

"If I kiss you right now, then I'm not going to want to stop." His voice was low; it almost sounded like the one the villains of Starling City were familiar with. "And I don't want you to be with me because you feel sorry for me."

She went from heartbroken to mad in ten seconds and placed both hands on his neck, thumbs over his jawline. "Oliver Jonas Queen, I care about you… a lot. So if you want to stop, remove me as the reason why."

A spark of amusement shined in his eyes. "Is that your indoor loud voice?"

"You're damn right it is." She took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm serious. I care about you. I flew in a plane that should be part of a museum exhibit for you. I even jumped out of it to come and get you. And when we jumped out of a skyscraper's window, I held on because I trust you. I _care _about you, Oliver. Are you honestly telling me you don't know that?"

"I know… I know," he whispered. "I just don't want to pull you under. This life—"

"Oliver, please," she interrupted, pulling his head down to hers. "Just kiss me."

He didn't hesitate again. The moment their mouths met everything felt right and all the bad in their lives faded, pushed far away from the temporary bubble they had created. The kiss was filled with built up tension between them, yet tortuously slow at times. She kept her eyes closed, and she gasped for air as his mouth trailed down to her neck.

Felicity traced and memorized every scar and tattoo that night, and she couldn't fathom being with anyone else again; the feeling of his hands on her skin felt like a mark. It was more than either of them had experienced before, though that shouldn't have come as a surprise. They had always been _something more_.

* * *

**Author's Note: Thank you for reading this one-shot! I decided to write this story as an exercise to move past the writer's block I've been experiencing, and I hope you liked it! Please review. :)  
**

**Thanks again,**

**Pixie**

**PS: To all WtLC readers, I apologize for the long wait. I'm currently working on the next chapter. Thank you for all the support!**


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